


Nothing to Say

by likeadeuce



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Female Characters, Fingerfucking, Humor, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riza and Rebecca could talk things out, but neither of them really wants to. Besides, what is there to say?</p><p>Written for the prompt, "Post-Mission" in Porn Battle XIV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to Say

Riza's hand trembled as she turned the key in her front door. Only a tiny bit. No one would notice unless they were watching closely.

Becca was watching. "You sure you're all right?" she asked, not for the first time.

Riza turned and started to answer, but just then Black Hayate sprung forward, wriggled between the two women, and bounded into the apartment. 

"What's wrong, boy?" Riza followed him, hand on her holster. They disappeared into the inner room, leaving Becca by the open door, with an armful of file folders she had helped to carry from the office. After a moment's hesitation she came inside, pushing the door shut behind her with one foot. An open door would make her nervous, after the day they'd had, but maybe Riza didn't care. Or else she trusted Becca to do it for her. Or she thought there was something wrong in the apartment and, being Riza Hawkeye, was _running toward it_. 

"Are you all right?" Becca called. "Should I bolt the door, or - ?" Or was your highly-trained attack dog freaking out for a reason? Becca wasn't a big fan of animals, in general (it was hard enough to figure out people, and they could tell you what was going on with them, and sometimes even did) but Hayate seemed to know what he was doing, most of the time.

"Put the chain in the door, if you want to come in," Riza said.

"Of course I do." Becca looked in vain for a clear spot on Riza's counter or coffee table. She always expected the other woman to keep a tidy house, though back in the day they'd been roommates long enough for Becca to know from experience that wasn't true. Finally, she gave up and dumped the files on the sofa. Chaining the door, she tentatively walked back toward Riza's bedroom. "Everything okay?"

Riza was standing with hands on her hips, looking down at Hayate, who was lying on his back, legs sprawled out to either side. "Is he --?" Becca paused. She didn't really know anything about dogs. Riza's whole canine corps thing had happened out of the blue a long time after they stopped rooming together. Hayate seemed to be breathing and—lolling his tongue or something. Was that a good sign?

"He's tired." Riza gave a rueful smile. "It's been a long day, and he just wants to sleep."

"I can relate to that." Becca found the side of Riza's bed, which felt so comfortable to her weary ass that she flopped backwards onto the mattress. "I thought they slept all curled up and stuff."

"Some dogs do." Riza lay down beside her, in time for Becca to wonder if maybe she should have asked before lying down. She and Riza were friends, but she wasn't sure if they were still bed-flopping friends like they'd been at the Academy, when they were cadets and roommates and thought they knew so much about the world and didn't know anything. Riza rolled her head back and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. "Alphonse says Hayate sleeps on his back because he feels safe here with me."

Alphonse was the Fullmetal kid, Becca remembered. Or the other metal kid. She'd worked in military intelligence during the war, but it wasn't her job to keep tabs on alchemists. Thank God for that.

Becca spider-walked her fingers over the duvet cover, ending on top of Riza's knuckles. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Riza said. "It was an ordinary day." Becca made a little grunt in her throat, because there had been a hostage crisis, gunfire and explosive alchemy, and a well-placed bullet. Then Riza and her team came to clear everything out, while Becca got the old general a glass of water and kept a close eye to make sure he wasn't dying of a heart attack or something. "An ordinary day," Riza affirmed, "Only more so."

"Your ordinary is not my ordinary. I have an office job."

"I have an office job. Technically." Riza sat half up and wriggled out of her heavy uniform jacket. She sank back down and gave the coat a half-hearted toss across the room, where it fell across the wooden dresser. "That is, I know the Colonel has an office because he sometimes takes naps in it. The rest of the time? We do whatever the job calls for."

"I'm just saying, there are other district commanders, and their jobs don't ever seem to call for quite so many _exploding balls of fire_."

Riza grinned, then shrugged. In the course of shrugging she sniffed under her arm. Making a face, she slipped out of the tight black T-shirt she wore under her uniform jacket and threw it across the room to land next to the sleeping dog. Riza crashed back to the bed in her worn, dingy bra, then rolled over on one side and propped her cheek in her hand. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked Becca.

"What do you mean?"

"You keep asking how I'm doing, even when I say I'm okay. So maybe –"

 _Maybe I think you're full of shit,_ Becca remembered Riza's hand shaking, once the danger was over. "Maybe I want you to ask me if I'm all right?" Becca started to laugh. "I'm sorry, but –" Riza had started to lean very close. Becca giggled again. "I cannot have a serious conversation with your rack in my face."

Riza jerked away and lay back down, crossing her arms over her breasts. "You cannot have a serious conversation, period."

"You can't have a _conversation_ about anything," Becca shot back. Putting on a ridiculous voice that was, admittedly, nothing like Riza's, she said, "I don't know _what_ Colonel Mustang is doing that keeps almost getting us blown up." She shook her head. "Don't make this about me just because I don't want to get all feelingsy whenever you happen to think it's the right time."

Becca stood up (which was kind of a shame, she had liked that bed) and wondered if they were having a fight and if she was actually going to have to flounce and then if she'd have to call a cab or what. She stood still for just a little longer than necessary, then felt Riza's hand on the arm of her uniform coat. "Don't leave mad, okay?" Riza tugged her sleeve. "Don't leave at all. You don't want to walk home in the dark and –" Becca turned, and Riza was pulling her duvet aside. "I've got a big bed."

"Okay, Hawkeye." Becca gave a dramatic sigh. "You talked me into it." She started taking off her jacket, as Riza sat on the side of the bed and pulled off her boots and uniform trousers. As she leaned down, Becca got another good look at the top of Riza's round, heavy (and really, nauseatingly perfect) breasts. Becca didn't have any problem with her own breasts – they were a little dainty, and her left nipple stuck out in a weird way when she was aroused. But she filled out a sweater fine, the strap of her shoulder holster fit nice and snug, and she'd had enough hands and tongues and occasional (consensual) teeth on her tits to know that other people liked them fine. Still, Riza Hawkeye had a _rack_ and once they'd been _called to your attention_ it was sort of hard not to look.

"Can you get me a clean T-shirt?" Riza asked, pointing to the dresser. Becca had to avoid a kick from the sleeping dog, but found a drawer filled with identical black T's. She picked one up and started to throw it toward the bed, then stopped. Riza had dropped her uniform trousers, leaving on her ragged cotton panties, which she was apparently going to sleep in. Becca left her own boots and trousers in a heap with the jacket. She undid a lacy bra (black to match her bikini briefs, because you never knew where you might end up after a day at the office) and pulled it out of her sleeve, dropping it on the floor. In her black T-shirt and panties ensemble, she sauntered back to the bed, and maybe she put a little swagger in her step. Riza's breasts were perfect, but Becca had a top ten time in her Academy class in 800 meter cross country (number one among the women) and fucking great legs to show for it. 

She sat down next to Riza and held out the clean T. "Shirt?" she asked.

"As opposed to --?"

Becca set the shirt across Riza's thighs, then slid her hand underneath it. Her fingers rested against bare skin, and the silence hung there for a moment, until Becca spoke. "Neither of us really wants to talk about today. So maybe we can make out instead."

Riza gave a surprised little laugh, but it wasn't an objection, and in a moment, she leaned in to kiss Becca on the mouth. It was a soft, outward kiss at first, but then Becca tightened her grip on Riza's thigh. Riza inhaled sharply and then started to kiss harder and deeper. She raised a hand to the back of Becca's head and found the elastic that held her thick, curly hair in a ponytail. Riza threaded a finger or two under the stretchy ring and pulled it out, sending a solid tug through the roots down to her scalp. Waves of hair spread across Becca's shoulders, and the space between her thighs tightened. She could feel the growing wetness, and wanted to touch herself – with a man, she would have touched herself, to let him know what she was ready for – but now, she just pushed her fingertips harder into Riza's hard, muscled legs.

When Riza pulled back from the kiss, her deep brown eyes glinted. "We haven't done this for a long time," she said, as though stating a fact. And it was a fact. Sort of a fact. They'd been out of the Academy for years, but even then they'd never done exactly this. Their kisses back then had been quiet, soothing, the few more intimate touches another form of the comfort they both badly needed. Once it was over, it had become another of the things they never talked about.

"It has been a long time," Becca agreed. "It's been so long that --" She scooted forward, now almost kneeling across Riza's lap. Reaching up, she found the clip in Riza's hair, clicked it open, and tossed it across the room. Becca slid her hands down Riza's shoulders, letting the blonde waves tickle her open palms. "You didn't have all this hair then." Her fingers closed around the ends. "I’m not going to _pull_ it, though, because unlike some Riza Hawkeyes I could name, I am a nice person."

"Really? Because I kind of thought you liked it when I did that."

"Hmm," said Becca, trying to sound indifferent as the pulse between her legs sped up. Riza put her fingers on the front of Becca's hairline and pushed along her scalp, pulling the hair back from her forehead. Becca let out a little whimper, and kissed Riza some more, wondering how soon she would have to give in and demand those skilled fingers go to work on her clit. She remembered the perfect breasts that had started it all and touched Riza's back, going for the bra strap. Becca found an unexpected texture on the skin and almost pulled away, but stopped herself on time. She remembered the scars Riza had gotten in the war.

"Don't worry about hurting my back," Riza murmured between kisses. "It's just skin now."

"Good. I was going for your bra. I want to see your tits."

"You've seen my tits."

"Fine, make me spell it out. I want to suck your tits."

Riza raised her hands then, to let Becca take off the bra – God, they _were_ going lingerie shopping, and some time soon – then lay on her back, showing symmetrical pink aureoles against fair skin. Becca sat straight up now, thighs pushed around Riza's. She started to slide down the other woman's body, to get a better angle of approach to the breasts. Riza stopped her with a hand to the small of her back. She took hold of the bottom of Becca's T-shirt and pulled it up over her head. That shirt went flying across the room, and now Becca was displaying her own small breasts, crooked nipple and all. Riza knew which one it was, or so Becca assumed, because she reached up and pinched it. Becca breathed in, her thighs clenched, and Riza said in a leisurely but commanding voice, "Panties off, too."

Becca managed to get the elastic off her hips before Riza reached up to help her. They had just slipped over her ankles when Riza's hand glided over Becca's carefully trimmed pubic hair and found her clit with the tips of three fingers. Already wet, more than ready for the entrance, Becca pushed herself up and down, riding Riza's touch as long as she could. Becca put both hands in her own hair now, hoping for but not quite managing the effect Riza had produced. But the friction between her legs was more than enough. She thought about making the moment into an act, a big-eyed moaning imitation of a porn actress. It might have been funny, would have taken some weight off the moment. But when she started to come, the wave of sensation was too real to turn into something silly, and she made noises that sounded like, "Goddamn, Riza, wow," without even having to try.

Riza's breasts tasted of talcum powder, and a hint of the hard day's sweat that powder couldn't fully mask. When Becca ran her tongue around the nipples, Riza squirmed so much that Becca started to kiss her way down the other woman's body. She passed Riza's fists, which gripped the sheets tightly, and spread a hand to move her thighs apart. "Here now," Becca said, tracing the uneven trim of coarse blonde hair. "I'd expect you to be tidier than this." It wouldn't have surprised her if Riza had let everything grow, but it was clear she'd made an effort at some point and then either given up or let it go.

"I haven't exactly been keeping that up for company, okay?" Riza buried her hand in Becca's hair again, not-too-subtly guiding her kisses. "If you want me to put in the maintenance, convince me this is worth it."

"Like an oral argument?" Becca said, speaking almost into Riza's thigh. 

This made Riza laugh so hard, she almost kneed Becca in the chin. But they sorted things out and, from the satisfied shudders running through Riza's body a few minutes later, Becca guessed she was convinced. 

*

"I promise you one thing," said Becca, snuggling against Riza's shoulder. "If Mustang gets us all blown up, I'll kill him."

Riza ran a hand over Becca's bare arm. "I'll kill him first," she promised. "It's part of my job description."

"You have a weird boss."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Can I tell you a secret instead?" Becca's tongue ghosted along Riza's earlobe and she whispered."I feel just like Hayate right now."

"And you just called _me_ weird?"

"I feel like Hayate – who has, you might notice, slept through this whole escapade – because it's like you said before. I feel safe here with you. I'm not saying that I should, because you carry a gun into your own house and, as previously discussed, you work for a lunatic who's going to get us all blown up. But. In spite of all that, Riza Hawkeye. You make me feel safe."

"I'm glad," Riza said, pulling Becca close against her.

Becca had thought they might talk for longer, but instead they lay there in the darkness and fell quietly to sleep. It turned out that, between the two old friends and almost-new lovers, there was nothing left to say.


End file.
